


A lesson in balance

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Funny, Gen, Grant Ward POV, Teaching, Team Feels, Team as Family, Trust, and doesn't like it, skyeward friendship, team friendship, team story, that one time when Ward gets a taste of his own medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You expect me to trust you as my SO, and to teach me this really important stuff, you expect me to trust this whole damn organization, but you can't trust me back?!</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Aka, it's time for Skye to teach Ward something for a change. Which, of course, doesn't happen smoothly because the Super Spy refuses to admit he can't skate. At the end skating isn't the only thing he learns. </p><p>A huge thank you to <b>teruel-a-witch</b> from tumblr, who keeps sharing headcanons with me, and to <b>ohmycheese</b>, another tumblr buddy, for never ending enthusiasm and encouragement. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A lesson in balance

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to read a story about Skye teaching Ward something, and being in the role of a mentor for ages now. Have a winter themed team fluff about trust, allowing your teammates to do something for you and skating. 
> 
> Happy holidays!

What Grant expects after a persistent and slightly neurotic knock on the door is Fitz with some kind of a movie, but when he opens his bunk door, he is facing Skye. 

A rather pissed off Skye, if her expression is any indication. (It usually is). 

“Skye -” he starts, because she's the last person he wants to talk to (from experience, talking to her requires more effort than talking to anyone else he knows), but she doesn't buy the stern voice and the almost - eyeroll. Instead, he's met with a strong, unyielding finger poking his chest. 

“Just what was that, Agent Ward?” she says, loudly so. 

“What was what?” he asks, moving away from her finger and shielding his chest with his crossed arms. She comes in and claims his personal space with complete disregard of his obvious cues to leave him alone – not that those always work. He just wants a peaceful evening after having to babysit her and Science Brats for entire afternoon. And watch them skate for two hours. Which he spent freezing near the rink, and feeling like a grumpy parent to three unruly teenage kids who kept talking back.

“Why were you rude to Jemma?” she asks in a tone that's heated and actually angry and he pauses to think if he ever saw Skye really angry at him. Sure, during the first interrogation, but that was more like indignant – angry, _you're – not - allowed – to – judge - my – life - choices_ brand of angry. He realizes that he was never faced with personal type of anger, although he had seen it, directed at someone else (and conveniently he had been angry of Miles Lydon as well, and didn't consider the heat of Skye's anger as much as he was focused on rancid taste of his own disappointment). Ever since then she avoided directing such intense shows of her emotions at him. 

Until now. 

“I wasn't rude -” he starts, but in vain, of course. It's hard to out-talk excited Skye, but angry Skye? No such luck. 

“Hell, you were _awfully_ rude,” she says (and he notes that she usually doesn't swear), and that somehow punches him harder than a slap she probably wants to give him would. Sure, Skye made plenty of comments and bad jokes about his behavior – and he is well aware that he isn't the most sociable person in the world, but there's something about her words and the way she says that that just makes him.... stop. “Like, what on Earth did they do to you, _both_ of them? Who made you go with us in the first place, Ward, when you didn't want to skate?! Did you wake up this morning and go _oh I'm gonna ruin someone's fun today_ , huh?” she manages on a single breath, and it sparks something within him in return. 

“I went with you because someone had to,” he says and regrets it before he's even done saying it because there's something worse than anger in here yes now. He can't even name it. 

“ _What_? Grant, we don't need a babysitter! We're all _adults_ , and no, we can't shoot wings off a fly from five hundred feet away, but we can get ourselves to skating rink and back here,” she says, shouts in fact and his mouth drops for a moment (shoot the wings off a fly?!), but she doesn't seem to be done yet. “I get that you're feeling super responsible for everyone and that you need you have to protect those you perceive weaker than you, but oh boy, you should work on that perception. Fitz and Simmons could kill you with their brains and I could just -” she pauses for a moment, “ _lock_ you in a password protected cell and you wouldn't be able to get out of it in like _ever_.” She pauses, looking legitimately terrifying. “So. Just. _Stop_.” 

For a moment or two he doesn't really know what to say. But she does, in fact it seems she has plenty to say, so she continues, advancing towards him, which results in him walking backwards, until he ends up on his bed in pretty unceremonious fashion. 

“You can't just assume someone will be in danger and therefore need your all mighty biceps around, and even if we were? We're not exactly helpless, but even if you decided you're the only person responsible for the safety of three of us, we still didn't deserve you to take out your savior complex out on us, and we certainly didn't deserve to go all grumpy ass on us because _you can't skate!!_ ”

The last bit hits him worse than anything she has said before, and that's somehow utterly ridiculous to begin with, but he frowns, distantly aware that he ought to look like a five year old (because that's what she does to him!) However it doesn't stop him, so he gets up, straightens to his complete height and towers over her, but that doesn't reduce the intensity of her glare one single bit. She's just not impressed. 

“That is not the point,” he starts. “The point is that we're stuck here because the plane needs repairs and while we're waiting for those to be finished, you're not supposed to go wandering around like _tourists_!”

“That's your beef? That we're not supposed to wander around?!” she rolls her eyes, actually rolls her eyes at him, and he can't really recognize the girl who is trying to impress her SO. (That ought to say something about him, he thinks, and the realization that's creeping up his spine isn't a nice one.)

“Well, for your information, both Coulson and May left to town today and got some personal things done, and if _mom and dad_ allowed to go out and _have fun_ then so are we. And don't tell me it's classified, whatever they've been doing, or some such crap, I saw the shopping bags May brought with her, so any argument you might use. Is going to be so. _Invalid_ ,” she says. 

Grant opens his mouth to say something but she pins him with a kind of stare he's never really seen on her, so he just closes his mouth. 

“And I know you can't skate,” she adds. Which gets him fuming again, because no, after being dressed down by her he will simply not discuss this. 

“You're wrong,” he says. In a tone rarely anyone ever challenges. 

“And you're lying,” she retorts. “Pretty well, tho, but I know you're lying.” 

“You don't know that,” he insists. 

“I do,” she looks at him and then sighs with completely different kind of exasperation. “And you know what? That's kinda sad, Grant. I know _you_ well enough so I know you were doing your best to hide you can't skate and avoid falling on your ass in front of FitzSimmons and me because you're the awesome Agent Ward and nobody should see you groping air or falling on your ass because you can't keep your balance -” she puts her hands on her hips, closes her eyes and shakes her head. “But you totally fail to see that nobody would think any less of you even if we'd laugh our asses off because I bet you'd look like a drunken giraffe on skates -” 

“I would – what?” he manages somehow, but she lifts a hand and silences him. 

“We _care_ about you, you Grinch! Do you know why Fitz and Simmons got so excited when you said you were coming along? Because they like having _fun_ with you. Because they care about stuff like that, and I do as well, and good God, you could just say something and we'd show you how to skate, but you know what I think the problem is? You don't _trust_ us. Which is kinda awful, because you expect us to trust _you_ , be all exposed and vulnerable and depend on you to protect us but you can't even admit you can't skate? And ask us to teach you? You expect me to trust you as my SO, and to teach me this really important stuff, you expect me to trust this whole damn organization, but you can't trust me back?! Can you say power imbalance really really quickly, huh??” 

Grant watches as Skye's expression switches between frustration to exasperation and then finally hurt. 

“That's a sucky attitude for an SO to have, you know,” she says.

And then she leaves.

* 

Half an hour later he sulks his way into lounge room on the Bus where May is debating another glass of scotch. When he reaches for the bottle in front of her, she moves it away. 

“She's right, you know,” May says flatly. Grant isn't sure he follows, but May knows that. “You were rude and you have trust issues. And that's a really sucky attitude for an SO.” 

After which she gets up and takes the drink with her, as if she's telling him that if he wants nice things, like Coulson's fancy scotch, he should deserve them. 

*

Some time later (much later, because his ego needs some recovery time) he knocks at the door to Skye's bunk. He usually calls out her name too, because he's preoccupied with at least three things at once and he can't wait for Skye to abandon her laptop, get up and open the door. But this time he waits properly and she frowns with confusion when she opens the door. 

“I thought it was someone else,” she informs him. 

“I know,” he says. She raises her eyebrows, like she's asking him what the hell he wants, because she has more important stuff to do. A tiny bud of realization sprouts in his mind, that this is the exact kind of treatment he's been giving her ever since Miles (he hates that guy), and is sometimes still giving her. He finds that being on the receiving end of his own brand of punishment actually hurts, and he realizes that he hasn't been made feel like this ever since... well, he can't remember. He had to be much younger. Skye's comment about power imbalance comes back to slap him upside the head. Yes, of course he was aware of power imbalance. He just didn't.... take it seriously? “Um,” he begins. Very eloquently. Skye's eyebrows rise a bit higher. “I'm sorry?”

“That shouldn't be a question,” she says. 

Okay, he deserved that. 

“I really am sorry,” he says. No matter how hardass he wants himself to be, he doesn't really want to hurt people – no not just people, or random recruits. He doesn't want to hurt the team. Anyone on the team. Including Skye. Except he hurt her plenty. She looks at him like she's expecting more, and he should probably up his game. Which he isn't completely sure how to do, or actually he is, but doesn't really want to. There is only one way of talking to Skye. It requires honesty, or rather, it's where she always brings him. “I didn't really mean to be an ass,” he offers as a start. 

She nods a little, narrowing her dark eyes on him. “Well, you were. And I'm kind of used to it, but heck even I don't deserve that kind of -”

He lifts his hand, like they were on a briefing which obviously just pisses her off more but he can't just slip his Agent – skin that easily. “I know,” he says, sighs, rubs his palm over his face. This is hard. “I'm sorry,” he repeats and it seems it's the only thing he's able to say. “Look, I really don't ...” he stops, pauses before he says he doesn't know how to explain himself because he does. “Look,” he starts again, finds that tips of his shoes are really fascinating and that talking is much easier if he studies his footwear, not Skye's expression. “I wasn't ready to have that bit about myself.... exposed,” he says and finally looks up. She still looks exasperated, but she is Skye and the thing about her? She has the endless patience and faith and compassion for other human beings, including him (including _him_ ), so there's that warm spark of something that's uniquely her igniting in her eyes. 

“You could have just said so, you know,” she says, even smiles for a tiny moment. “But, you wouldn't be _Agent Ward_ if you did.”

“Nah,” he presses his lips in a thin line. 

“Nope, you're that guy who yells at someone who just tripped over because you're worried about them,” she says, and he'd say something to her, but that's sort of dead on, so he stays quiet. She regards him for a moment and her expression melts into amusement and lightens up. Which does something to his chest and a knot in there starts loosening. “Come on,” she says. “I gotta teach you something.” 

 

*

“Remember,” she says, excited and flush faced and _cute_ , “You're supposed to fall.”

“I'd rather not,” he says and doesn't let go of the rink wall. She shakes her head. 

“How did you ever learn to ride a bike, huh? You had to fall a couple of times,” she makes a neat circle around him, her skates scraping the ice. It's chilly, but nice kind of chilly, and he's well dressed, warm, but he can move as required. 

He tries not to grin, and it fails halfway. Her expression is victorious when she pushes herself away from the wall, towards the center of mostly empty skating rink. The few people around don't mind them. She glides across the white effortlessly, and it's probably the most graceful thing he'd ever seen her do, her hair floating behind. “Come on, Ward,” she sing songs, “don't you wanna learn how to do this? Just put one foot in front of another,” she says, gliding back to him, “and if you fall, I'll pick you up.” 

“Really,” he says, makes it sound like over the top suspicion that can only be comical, even from him, and she laughs. He likes that she laughs. 

“Really,” she says. “Although your ass is probably heavy.”

“Are you insulting my weight, rookie?” he asks, and when she grins a bit wolfishly, gleefully, he knows why. 

“I'm not the rookie around here,” she comes really close to him and aims a teasing grin at him. “ _Agent Ward_.”

And with that she nudges him and he'd fall, on his ass no less, if he wasn't holding onto something. 

“Hey!” his indignation is feigned and she playfully slips away, spins in front of him just far enough to be out of his reach.

“Yeeep,” she says. “Come and get me if you can.”

He sighs, chuckles to himself and shakes his head, because did he even expect it would be any different than this? 

 

*

An hour later his ass hurts. Like really, truly hurts and sitting will probably require careful balancing of his own weight on his gluteus maximus for next couple of days. His ego hurts much less, okay, _doesn't really_. He feels kind of nice, the same kind of nice like when they're playing battleship and she destroys him, but he secretly enjoys it. What's good is that he can enjoy this openly – there is a warm cup of mulled wine between his chilly fingers and the way Skye chatters about nonsensical things, slipping bits of her own personal history in between. 

“That wasn't so bad, was it?” she says eventually, settling in what he presumes is a more comfortable position and inhales the smell from her second cup of mulled wine. 

“The wine?” he asks, because he feels like being a brat for a change. 

“Skating, you dork,” she says with an affectionate eye roll. “You didn’t even fall that many times because you have this freakish awesome balance or something,” she says fondly, even a bit proudly, and he can see that she enjoys being in mentor's shoes for a change. It's a humbling kind of experience, because she's a better teacher than he could guess – good at explaining, patient, steady and encouraging. She makes it look like something she enjoys doing, and she probably _does_ enjoy it. He'd like to be more like that – not that it really could happen in his line of work, although Coulson would probably disagree. The thing is he could be nice, or nicer, but he doesn't really do nice. He didn't, at least, until this team. “Although you do look like a giraffe on skates,” she says and giggles at her own joke. 

“Funny,” he says. 

“I am hilarious,” she says, raising the cup to herself. “You know, you _can_ have fun with things,” she says. 

“I don't really do that,” he says, his mouth filter not working properly. 

“Geeez, who'd notice,” she says and that makes him laugh. She gives him a tentative smile. “What happened to you? Not that you're actually gonna answer -”

“What do you mean?” he asks, even though he's pretty sure what she means, and it's the topic he'd avoid on most days, but right now he's tired and sore, in good kind of way, and lulled by the combination of wine, exhaustion and laughter. 

“When you were a kid,” she says. “Did you even get to be a kid, Ward?” 

He waits a heartbeat and another, staring at the cup between his hands. And it's okay, he feels safe enough to actually say it out loud. “Not really. I was always … on the lookout.”

That's enough explanation for both of them, and he knows she understands. Which is nice, and this kind of connection with someone who just _gets it_ is nice and for the first time he doesn't feel uncomfortable saying something about his past in front of her. 

It has to be the wine, he thinks. 

“The mini adult,” she says, with bit of sadness and lot of fondness. 

“Yeah.” 

“And you figured you'd be better listened to if you yelled a lot,” she guesses. Correctly. He just nods. She looks at him, long. “You know, you don't have to. Yell. Well, not always. Sometimes, you know, you have to -”

He sees the opening she gives him and he takes it. 

“Yeah, when three of you keep talking over each other, I kind of have no other choice,” he says and she laughs. 

“Pffft. Excuses,” she says. “You're aware you still have to properly apologize to FitzSimmons?” 

“Yeah,” he says, aware that he should make it good, for FitzSimmons and his own conscience and this tentative cease fire between him and Skye (not that they could ever make complete peace, but that's okay, that's how they work). 

“You'll have to do better than that, you know,” she says. “It's not like they want to shoot you down and stomp all over you. Except maybe in a snow fight. It's more like.... you shouldn't be that afraid to fall? Metaphorically, I mean, I'm pretty sure even you should be afraid of physical fall, but you know, metaphorically? Because there's plenty of people who will pick you up.” 

*

Grant makes lunch the next day. And he does apologize. Nicely. Simmons gives him a hug. Fitz is eying him suspiciously (because, never trust a man who doesn't like buffallo mozarella and prosciutto sandwich) but doesn't refuse the lunch. If anything makes Fitz happy, it's food, and Grant did his best. Entire team compliments him. There are barely any leftovers.

“How about we do something fun?” Simmons suggests after the lunch.

“Like what?” Grant asks, even though he'll probably regret it. 

“Oh, I don't know, something fun,” she says brightly. “How about a snowfight?”

A snowfight. Of all the things. 

He is about to say something against her obvious excitement, because it's been snowing buckets for the last two days and contrary to popular belief, he prefers being cozy and warm over cold and physically exhausted. But then he catches Skye's look and keeps his mouth shut. 

“You know, Simmons, that sounds like a great idea,” says Coulson, and then it's a deal because everyone seems to be on board with it. (Even May! Which Grant wouldn't expect, but he's learned by now that May is the definition of unexpected and that she's fond of the team and does things that make them happy, so he better not argue with that.)

Half an hour later Team Boys loses sorely against Team Ladies, after which Grant teams up with Simmons, Fitz with May and Coulson with Skye, which results in a war. Brutal snow war. Lots of casualties and no real winners. When Grant claims he can win as a one man team (because he's a specialist and working alone is quicker than coordinating with someone), he ends up thrown into knee deep snow by Fitz-Simmons-Skye and gets hit by unfair amount of snowballs (“You were so _totally_ asking for that, Ward”). He's pretty sure Coulson takes pictures. When he teams up with Skye against Team Geeks and Team Badass (that's how May names herself and Coulson) they manage to win, but just barely, and Skye makes him admit that working in team is better than working alone. 

“Time to eat your own hat, eh Agent Ward?” Fitz asks with a grin. 

“I'll see you at next poker match,” Grant replies. Everyone laughs. 

 

* 

 

A day later all repairs are done and Bus is ready to take off. But before they go (it's three hours until they're set to leave) Fitz suggests they go skating again. 

Grant agrees. And puts oh hired skates (probably same ones from two days earlier). Falls on his ass couple of times and lets three of them pull him up because that's what the team does.


End file.
